Chapter Thirteen
Uncle Steve's History Lesson
For a couple of days Rev and P.C. attempted in vain to cajole Henry back in to the fold. It was only when Uncle Steve assured him there would be no more camping treks, and definitely no water crossings, that he rejoined the group.
One evening, a week after their crossing of the sands, Uncle Steve invited the boys to a hot pot supper in the woodshed. After demolishing the steaming H.P. covered dish kindly provided by Henry's grandmother, they took up their customary positions around the makeshift table and waited for Uncle Steve to begin. Knowing they were anxious, he deliberately took his time before blowing his first smoke ring, a signal that he was ready.
"I've something to show you."
He reached in to his canvas lunch bag and pulled out a leather-bound book. He handed it to Rev.
"Would you do me a favour, Rev? Turn to page four, and read the sentence at the top."
Rev gingerly opened the old book. The pages, once white, were darkened, spotted and fragile. He turned to page four.
"Egfrid, the King of Northumbria, gave the land called Furness, and all the Britons in it, to St.Cuthbert."
"That's it. Thank you very much, Rev."
"So?" said Henry, completely at a loss.
"Don't you see? King Egfrid, a Saxon king, reigned at the end of the seventh century. By that time the Romans were long gone, and it seems as if some Britons had survived the Saxon invasion."
"The Saxons must have come here for the King of Northumbria to be able to give the land?"
"I'm sure they did, P.C. Northumbria was the Saxon part of Northern England, with its capital at York. When they talked of 'giving' the land, I think Egfrid was giving Cuthbert permission to send his missionaries into our area."
"The Druids wouldn't like that would they?"
"I suppose not, Henry. I'm sure there must have been a lot of problems as the monks built their places of worship and went about their task of converting the heathens. They were very clever about it though, making sure that all the popular Celtic festivals and traditions were kept."
"What do you mean?" asked P.C.
"What happens every year at Michaelmas?"
"The big fair in Ulverston."
"That's right. But did you know that the fair had been held at that time since long before the time of St.Cuthbert. It was a feast day in the old religion and the monks were wise to let it continue.
At first the missionaries were successful but I believe their success was short lived. For many years the inhabitants of Furness, followers of the old religion, had enjoyed peace and prosperity. Now there was a threat from the sea and the new Church failed to protect them."
"What was the threat? Flooding?"
"Geeze, Henry, don't you remember anything from school," said Rev. "Who invaded England after the Saxons? They came in boats with striped sails and looked as if they had horns sticking out of their heads."
"I know. I know. The Vikings! I'm not a complete dunderhead."
"Not only did the Vikings come, they plundered. Villages were destroyed, everything of value carried off, including many poor survivors who were sold in to slavery. Wherever they went the appearance of the dragon ships spread terror and panic. Even if they were driven off, the people knew they would return."
"What did the new church do to help?" asked Henry.
"They introduced a new prayer in to their church services. From the fury of the Northmen, good Lord, deliver us."
"And a lot of good that must have done." P.C. guffawed. "Surely the people themselves could do better than that."
"They could. They reactivated an old system of signalling fires, known as beacons that covered the whole peninsula. When warned, the people moved in to well-concealed hiding places in the forests."
"I bet the Druids knew the best places to hide," said Henry.
"How can you tell that they settled here?" asked Rev, ignoring Henry's umpteenth reference to Druids.
"From the place names. There's an old rhyme, which goes, on ford and ham and ley and ton most of Saxon place names run.
"This means that towns such as Dalton and Ulverston were probably original Saxon settlements. The Vikings who settled in this area were Norwegian in origin and their name for a village is "by" and their name for a farm is "thwaite". So, if you see a place name ending in, by, or thwaite, Vikings probably founded it. Why don't you see how many names like this you can think of whilst I go to the loo?"
The boys were amazed at the number of names they were able to recall during Uncle Steve's short absence. On his return from the throne, he once again picked on Rev.
"Can you tell me what these words mean? Beck?"
"A small stream."
"Tarn?"
"A small lake."
"Fell?"
"A mountain."
"Force?"
"A waterfall."
"See, Rev, you're almost a Viking. All those words are Scandinavian. Another thing, did you know that during the War, some local men were posted in Greenland and Iceland and were amazed to find that they could carry on a reasonable conversation with the natives if they spoke in Cumbrian dialect?"
"I find it hard to believe that the old religion survived all these invasions? That's what you're suggesting isn't it, Mr. Dover?"
"I suppose I am, Rev. Everything seems to suggest that there was a lot of conflict between the supporters of the old ways and the Christians. It lasted for more than 500 years and became really bad when the Black Monks arrived."
"The Black Monks. Did they come from Africa?" said Henry, his voice betraying excitement.
Uncle Steve couldn't hold back a chuckle.
"They were an order of monks who wore black robes. They moved in to the area after the Norman Conquest, reopened the iron mines, and started sheep farming on a huge scale."
"But how could they do this? Did they just take the land?"
"Good point, Rev. You must remember that most of the land was common. Everyone was free to use it. The monks just took over."
"Surely the local people must have put up a bit of a fight."
"I don't think there was much they could do. The monks, supported by nobles who had many well-armed troops under their command, carried out a campaign to gain control of the land and wipe out anything relating to the old religion."
"How do you know this?"
"It's well documented. Many of the locals were tried as heretics on the witch's stool at Urswick; others were tortured in to submission at Lancaster Castle. It's no wonder they went underground."
"In to the tunnels?"
Uncle Steve laughed. "No, Henry, I meant they didn't practice their religion publicly."
"You mean they became like a secret society?"
"I suppose so, and they were determined to gain revenge on the Black Monks who had taken over from them and ravaged their lands."
"Did they ever gain revenge?" asked Henry.
"Oh, did they ever, but they had to wait until the time of Henry the Eighth. The monks became very rich and powerful and built a magnificent abbey in a deep narrow vale about a mile to the west of Dalton."
"I know it. I've been there. It's a weird, spooky place with old ruins of red stone and gravestones everywhere. I wouldn't want to be there at night."
"Do you remember what they called the valley, P.C.?"
"Yes I do. Even that was weird - the vale of the deadly nightshade."
"Do you know why it's called that...anybody?"
No answer.
"The nightshade is a poisonous plant and it grows in abundance in the valley. I tend to believe that Henry's secret sect introduced the plant to prevent the monks from using the pastures. It's also rumoured that they poisoned a spring, the only source of water in the vale, in a futile attempt to dislodge the Black Monks."
"Success only came when King Henry decided to take over the monasteries. Soldiers were sent in to Furness with orders to destroy the Abbey, which by then was one of the wealthiest in England. Even at that time, the geography of Furness was largely unknown to outsiders and the Tudor soldiers spent several exasperating days searching for it. They became convinced that the rumoured Abbey didn't exist and decided to return to their camp at Lancaster. As the troops started to pull out of the market place at Dalton they heard the booming sound of a bell coming from a nearby valley. That sound heralded the end of the Black Monks. I often wonder who was tolling that bell."
"Uncle Steve, could it have been the Druids?"
"Oh, Henry, do you never give up?" said an increasingly exasperated Rev. "This Druid nonsense is driving me crazy. I went to the library to read about them and found out that the last Druids were killed by the Romans in a final battle against the Celts on Anglesey."
"How can they possibly know that?" Henry responded petulantly.
"Now you two stop arguing. I've something else that'll have you thinking."
Rev looked at his watch. Uncle Steve noticed.
"Henry's grandmother has made us some rhubarb and custard for afters. It should be ready soon. Do you still want to stay, Rev?"
He nodded. He could tolerate a few more minutes of Druidic nonsense if that was the penalty he must pay for lashings of his favourite dessert.
Uncle Steve continued. "Did you know that sometime in the Middle Ages, there was a great flood in the Furness area?"
"Like in the Bible?" said Henry.
"Not quite as bad, but it certainly changed the geography of the bay."
Rev's customary, "How do you know?" followed.
"Let me ask our local geography expert here. Can you tell me the names of any villages near the coast with the name "High" in them?"
P.C. answered almost immediately. "High Newton, High Carley, High Scales."
"Good. Now I'm right in saying there is a Low Newton aren't I? "P.C. nodded.
"So where are Low Carley and Low Scales? Have they disappeared?"
"That's a bit weak isn't it?"
"Well, how about this, Rev? In Barrow library there is an ancient map of Aldingham showing the church in the centre of quite a large parish. Now the church is right next to the shore."
"I like that better, but what's the explanation?"
"Apparently the greater part of the Estuaries was once fertile land with some woodland. At some time the sand banks in St.George's channel moved and blocked the deep channels of the Kent and Leven causing the low lying coastal plain to flood. There is plenty of evidence for this. For example the remains of large trees have been found deep under the sands on Walney Island. Huge trees of the same type have been found lying in the bed of the Leven, as far up as the tide can take them. There is every indication that sands were deposited over a flat rich meadow."
"And you're suggesting that the Druids caused this. Pull the other one, Mr. Dover. It has bells on it."
"Now hear me out, Rev. Do you believe that Bardsea was important to the Druids?"
"Maybe..."
"It seems that the Black Monks gained control of Bardsea. A local knight, Sir Michael le Fleming, upset by this, made an offer of a land exchange with the monks - the villages of Crimleton and Rosse for Bardsea. It must have looked like a good deal to the monks because they jumped at it. Do you know these places, P.C.?"
"No, never heard of them."
"I'm not surprised. They no longer exist. Sir Michael had read the signs, somehow knew the flood was coming, and pulled a fast one on the monks."
"He could have been a Druid, couldn't he?"
"Puddings ready," yelled Gran from the kitchen door.
"Thank goodness," said Rev.